


if this is love, i don't wanna be loved

by SunshineExploder



Series: talk to me please, don't have much to believe in [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I really can't say much because practically everything beyond this is a spoiler, John and Maria are BFFs now, M/M, Past breakups, more tags will be added, past adultery, rebuilding relationships, trigger warnings are at the beginnings of each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7397950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineExploder/pseuds/SunshineExploder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's found an unlikely friend in Maria after his breakup with Alexander. They both try to move on from the events of the past few months, supporting each other in their weakest moments. But John Laurens' life has never been easy. He's trying to put himself back together. It doesn't last.</p><p>(Third part in a series, this cannot be a stand-alone fic. Read the other parts first or this won't make a lick of sense.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you were the first to lie when we were not alright

**Author's Note:**

> Since I can't post trigger warnings in the tags of this story because they'll be spoilers, trigger warnings will be in the notes at the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: mentions of depression, mentions of self-harm, a somewhat outdated meme

Life never stays the same for long. John Laurens knows this all too well. He understands that life is sadistic and the universe takes a sick pleasure in taking everything he's ever known and turning it completely on its head. It's happened over and over again: when he realized he was gay, when he came out to his father, when he was kicked out of his home, when he had to make a life for himself in New York with not a damn thing to his name, when he fell in love with Alexander Hamilton. And more recently, when he found out Alexander had been cheating on him for two years. As always, his world being shaken has led to things he never would've imagined before.

One of those things is Maria. If you would've told John five months ago that he'd be living with the woman Alexander cheated on him with, he would've decked you. But shit happens and friends are found in unlikely places. After his meeting at the coffee shop with Maria, John thought he would've never seen her again. Then they started talking. Talking turned into hanging out, which turned into Maria becoming one of the closest friends he's ever had. It only made sense at that point that Maria move in with him. So that's what happened.

Before Maria moved in, John had come to hate his apartment. It never seemed large when Alexander still lived there, but once he was gone, it was like the place grew. The air was always too heavy with a silence he couldn't fill alone. It was cold no matter how many blankets John curled up under. The weight that had settled in his chest seemed to settle over the whole apartment. John spent as much time at Lafayette and Hercules' little house as he could. Their house was at least full of life. It didn't feel like a mausoleum.

John doesn't hate his apartment anymore. Maria makes it feel like a home again. It's like her presence chased away the ghosts that had sucked the happiness out of his heart. Sure, it will never be the same place it had been before. But Maria makes home feel warm again. John feels more alive with her here. Coming home to her smile at the end of the day makes his days matter again. He's come to love her so much. The unspoken cloud of Alexander is constantly hanging over them, but John doesn't even care anymore. He can pretend that he and Maria are friends just because. He doesn't have to acknowledge the reason they even know each other.

Of course, they’re not without their problems. John’s paycheck from the zoo and Maria’s tips from her waitressing job are barely enough to keep them afloat. They’re definitely not enough to pay for depression medication, which becomes important early on. Maria had only been living with John for a month before he realized that something was deeply wrong. Even though she smiled, happiness didn’t always reach her eyes. Hell, it still doesn’t reach her eyes sometimes. She’s pretty when she smiles. But when she really smiles, when she's really happy, she’s absolutely radiant.

When they had the conversation about it, Maria had broken down. John still remembers that day. It was a rare day off for them both, and they’d been curled up on the couch with reruns of  _ Malcolm In The Middle _ . During a commercial break, John had looked over at Maria and point-blank said, “You smile like it hurts to smile.” That had been all it took for Maria’s lower lip to quiver before tears trickled slowly down her cheeks. She had leaned into John and sobbed like she’d been holding it in for centuries. They stayed like that, John holding Maria as she shook and wept, for two hours before she unfolded herself from where she’d doubled over and finally told him what was going on.

Maria has depression. Severe depression. When she’d told John, she didn’t look at him. She explained it emotionlessly, like she was talking about someone else. Depression makes it hard for her to function. She needs special medication to fully cope with it, but her insurance got fucked up when James left. Now she can’t afford the medicine she needs, let alone therapy to go with it. Maria is shattered. At the time she’d first talked to John about it, she was still getting over Alexander and James. It made everything worse.

She still needs the medication she's not getting. But now, she's not alone. Now Maria smiles more. She laughs more. She and John have been living together for five months, and she seems like she’s got her head up. Of course, there are the bad times. The nights when she screams and falls apart while John holds her and holds her and holds her until she cries herself to sleep. The days where she doesn’t get out of bed and doesn’t speak and throws up any food John manages to get in her. There are still times when John sees red lines on her skin that he doesn’t comment on. He’ll call her out on a lot of things, but the marks he sees on her will never come up in conversation. John doesn’t think he can handle the truth of them.

Even through the bad times, Maria’s a rock for John. Just like he’s her life preserver when depression threatens to drag her under, she’s the light that fills him up when he gets empty. She’s a spark, she’s electricity that keeps him from becoming a robot. Because if John is left to his own devices, he’ll shut down again. He did it when he first kicked Alexander out. Not even Hercules and Lafayette, really his only two friends at the time, could restart him. John had been an empty shell when Maria walked into his life. She put life back into him. She is something else entirely and John will never be able to thank her enough.

She also takes none of his bullshit.

John comes home every day around seven pm. The zoo he works at closes at six, and he’s generally done with everything by that time. Traffic in New York City is murder, though, and it’s an hour from his zoo to the apartment. At least he’s a vet, so he’s not stuck after closing to do rounds with the animals. He can get home at a decent enough hour, and Maria’s always home before him. She works the graveyard shift at Denny’s, so she leaves after John’s asleep and gets home right after he’s left for work. Their schedules are total opposites, but neither of them mind. They have jobs and they have time for each other at the end of the day. It works well enough.

Even though Maria works a graveyard shift and has the weirdest eating and sleeping schedules John’s ever seen, she always manages to mother him to death about taking care of himself. She doesn’t put up with any of his complaining about when he eats or sleeps. His protests of “I am a grown fucking man!” are always met with glares that leave John fearing for his life. He was raised in the South, and in the South, there’s just some women you don’t piss off. One of those women is your mother. John’s real mother died years ago, but Maria fits the bill enough to where John won’t fight her on most things. She's scary as hell and he's not ashamed to admit that.

Today is another day of Maria being the mother John needs, even if he doesn’t want it. He skipped lunch earlier because of an emergency with one of the animals at the zoo. A giraffe broke its leg right before John’s lunch break, and he just didn’t get a moment to eat afterwards. It’s not a big deal, he’s used to missing breaks because some animal or another is hurt. But Maria is never pleased with him when he gets home and she finds out he hasn’t eaten since whatever he grabbed before he left for work that morning.

The minute John walks in the door, it’s like Maria is a fucking psychic. She pads into the front door in sweatpants (those are John’s, she’s been stealing his clothes again, dammit), a thin tank top, and slippers (those are John’s too, what the hell). He’s still not used to seeing her like this, out of her impeccable makeup and in her natural state. Sometimes it still catches him off guard to see her without her crimson lipstick and flawless eyeliner. Today, though, he’s more focused on the scowl she is wearing rather than the makeup she’s not.

“Jonathan Laurens,” she says seriously, hands on her hips.

As he slips his shoes and jacket off, he rolls his eyes. “Maria, you know that’s literally not even my name.”

“I don’t give a damn what your name is or isn’t, Jonathan Laurens. You didn’t eat lunch today, did you?”

John throws his hands up dramatically. “How do you always know this shit?!”

Her smirk makes him throw his hands up again. “Eliza and I don’t talk as much anymore, but she still tells me when you act like an idiot.”

John curses himself internally. He forgets that Eliza, his vet technician, used to be good friends with Maria. The girls had a falling out after the Reynolds Post, so John always forgets that the two even know each other. “She’s such a narc, I swear to god. I wish Peggy was my technician, she’s too much of a chaotic neutral to rat me out to you.”

“Ah, but Peggy would never abandon the snakes for you, my dear. Now come on, I made spaghetti.”

Maria leads him into the kitchen. True to her word, a pot of spaghetti sauce is bubbling on the stove, and a colander of fresh noodles is sitting in the sink. John grins tiredly and kisses Maria’s cheek. “I’m always a slut for your cooking.”

She laughs and pushes him, and he’s happy to see that the laugh reaches her eyes. “No memes until after you’ve eaten, Mr. I-Love-Animals-More-Than-Food.”

This is what makes his life bearable anymore. Quiet, easy nights with Maria where they can laugh and mean it. There’s a wound in both of them from everything that’s happened. It’s always there, always stinging. The ever-present ache weighs down on them both. But not being alone anymore soothes the hurt. It makes the pain feel okay, at least for a little bit.

John and Mariah take dinner into the living room and set up on the coffee table. They watch dumb Lifetime movies and talk about their days during the commercial breaks. John always loves hearing about the crazy things that happen to Maria during work. The graveyard shift at Denny’s is very interesting, come to find out.

“So this guy comes in at like three am, right? He smells like the human embodiment of desperation, and he orders the Grand Slamwich, which already tells you that his life is going down the shitter. I bring him his food and he proceeds to cry for forty-five minutes instead of eat it. He literally paid eight bucks to come in and sob in the back of a fucking Denny’s. Then he stuffs the whole sandwich in the actual front of his pants and leaves the store. Didn’t even give me a damn tip.”

John almost chokes on his spaghetti as he laughs. That’s how the rest of the night goes, Maria telling stories of all the weird shit that happens at Denny’s and John talking about all animals at the zoo. Maria knows the animals by name now, and she asks about specific ones every night. Every time she remembers the animals, John feels a pang in his heart. The only other person who remembered his animals was Alexander. It’s strange to have someone else care, but it makes a soft part of his soul warm to know that he has someone again. Not the same kind of someone, but he's not alone anymore.

Maria does care about him, and John cares about her right back. They’re both damaged goods trying to keep themselves from falling apart again. They’re suffering, but they’re suffering together. John just hopes that his world stays how it is, at least for a little bit. He doesn’t think he can take another heartbreak.


	2. if you give me your hand, i will help you hold on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He wonders again why marble people like Maria can shatter so easily."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for this chapter: depressive episode, talk of suicide

Days off are rare for Maria and John. They both work as much as they can, they need the money. It’s a first time for both of them that they struggle this much to keep their heads above water. Before, they both had men who made enough money to where they didn’t have to work this hard. Alexander worked at a law firm and made bank with how damn good a lawyer he was, and James was a pretty well-to-do drug dealer with a front in some business or another. John and Maria could afford to work less then, but they can’t now.

They really only take necessary time off work. Both of them take maybe one day off a week, and even then it’s once in a blue moon that they have the same day off. Today is one of those blue moon days. Last night, Maria went to sleep at an actual regular time that people sleep so she and John could have a day together. They’ve been planning it for a while. “Planning” meaning Maria taking her favorite comfy clothes from John’s closet and John putting the pizza place on speed dial in preparation for a day of doing absolutely jack shit.

It’s almost eleven in the morning before either of them decide to leave their rooms. John’s curls have created a frizzy halo around his head and he looks like he’s just smoked his body weight in weed (which he hasn’t attempted since college, he’ll have it on record) as he stumbles into the living room to collapse on the couch. Maria comes out not long after, her long hair in a bun the size of her fist. John flicks it with a tired smile when she flops down to cuddle.

Maria pouts, her eyes still squeezed shut against the morning sun. She lightly slaps his hands away from her hair. “Don’t touch the bun, bitch.”

“Is this the first time you’ve said that and it’s not about your butt?” John asks with a small laugh. He stops messing with her hair in favor of wrapping his arms around her back and hugging her close.

“I’m secure enough in your gayness to know that my hair is the only bun of mine you care about.”

“Thank you for believing in my gayness so much, it means a lot to me.”

"I'm here for you, hon."

They're quiet for a bit before John looks at what she's wearing. "Maria, are you wearing  _anything_ right now that didn't come from my closet?" She's got his sweatpants, his muscle tank, and he's pretty sure he can see the outline of his boxers through the pants. And are those his socks?

She shrugs. "I'm pretty sure this sports bra isn't yours, unless you've got some top secret titties I should know about." Her hand slaps around his chest for a moment before she says, "Nope, your chest is as flat as your ass."

He makes an indignant noise. "Excuse the hell out of you, missy, my ass is glorious and a fucking gift to the world."

"A snake would have more junk in the trunk than you."

"That's it!" John grins and digs his fingers into Maria's sides. She begins flailing, peals of laughter echoing around the room.

"John, oh my god, fucking stop--!" she gasps, but John just keeps going, moving his fingers faster. This goes on for almost ten minutes before he lets up and puts his arms back around her waist with a shit-eating grin. She slaps his arm and grumbles, "You are the worst and you should feel ashamed of yourself."

John's small laugh is his only response. They calm down, and Maria’s content to just curl up on John’s chest at this point. The convex curve of her hipbone presses uncomfortably into his stomach, but that’s normal. No matter how well John and Maria seem to fit, there’s always something amiss. Neither of them want to admit what that might mean.

They stay like that for a while, quietly enjoying each other’s warmth. It’s the only warmth they get anymore, really. They’ve both been cold for months. John and Maria both know what it’s like to miss a warm body against their own. They would lament about it together if not for the fact that they miss the same body. So instead of poking at that problem, they lay together like this. They hold their second choices and second chances together for as long as they can.

Three o’clock rolls around and Maria finally drags herself off of John. They’ve been cuddling and talking quietly for the better part of four hours, but enough is enough. When he whines for her to come back to the couch, she rolls her eyes. “Someone’s gotta make the food, Jacky babe.”

John’s nickname sounds fond coming from her, and he struggles to not remember the family he used to have. The people who used to call him Jacky. Instead of thinking of the past, he reaches out and makes grabby hands towards her. “Food later, cuddles now.”

Maria flicks his forehead before walking into the kitchen. John hears her rifling through the fridge and cupboards as she calls, “When was the last time either of us went to the damn grocery store?”

They don’t go to the grocery store, they go to the convenience store down the street every couple days to stock up on protein bars and water bottles. It’s what they can afford. Grocery store trips and Maria’s amazing homemade meals are about as common as days off. But John doesn’t say that, he just holds up his phone. “Pizza day, Mary, remember?”

He hates the frown Maria wears when she comes back into the living room. The light in her eyes is dimmer than normal, and John’s heart sinks. They’ve been having such a good day. But he’s been living with Maria long enough to know when she’s on the edge of falling into that deep pit again. He knows what a bad night looks like. He can see them coming a mile away, and this is already shaping up to be a bad one.

Maria sinks down to sit on the couch by John. She leans forward, lets her head fall into her hands. John comes closer and gently wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Maria,” he murmurs, pulling her close. “Maria, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just…” Here comes the shaking. John tightens his grip because he won’t let her come apart if he can help it. “I just wanna be in a place in my fucking life where there’s real fucking food and we don’t live off of fucking granola bars! I wanna have time to actually make meals and live like real fucking people instead of the paycheck whore I am and the paycheck whore you have to be now.”

The word ‘whore’ makes him wince. He hates when she starts referring to herself as that. It means she’s thinking about James and thinking about Alexander and thinking about all those things John wishes he could make disappear for her. But he can’t. All he can do is tuck loose strands of hair behind her ears and say, “I know you’re not coming undone over food. What’s really the issue?”

Maria leans into him and he can feel tears begin to soak his shoulder. Her voice is watery and desperate when she says, “We’re all fucked up because of me.”

John shifts her until he’s cradling her in his lap. She feels small and fragile in his arms, and he wonders again why marble people like Maria can shatter so easily. “We’re not fucked up because of you, Maria. I promise we’re not.”

He feels her fists clench his thin t-shirt. “We’re barely getting by and you lost the man you loved and I lost the only men who would even pretend to love me. I see the way you look at bills and I see the way you look at me and-- goddammit, John, I see the way you look at his picture. You keep it under your pillow, I saw it when I was looking for a pair of sweatpants in your room. You keep his letters. You keep that stupid jacket he used to wear.” She wails into his chest and John wishes for a moment that she’d scream herself hoarse so he doesn’t have to hear what she knows. “You lost him because of me. You’d be happy if it wasn’t for me.”

John doesn’t know what to say to that. The best he can do is say, “I’m happy now that I have you.” It’s not a rebuttal, it’s a weak concession.

“You were happier without me. I ruined everything because I’m a stupid, worthless whore. I fuck everything up and I’m so sorry.”

What can he do but hold her tighter? His chest feels empty and cold. The break in his heart only grows with every sob she heaves against him. John rocks them back and forth. “Don’t say that, please don’t say that. You’re not a whore, you’re definitely not stupid or worthless. You don’t fuck everything up. You’re so much better than that, okay? I know he made you think differently.”

“But it’s not different!” Maria picks her head up to look at John with searching, tear-filled eyes. “It’s true. James is a piece of shit, but he wasn’t wrong about me. I shouldn’t even be here.”

Panic rushes through John’s veins as he stares down at her. “Don’t,” he begs. “Don’t even say that. I couldn’t stand it if you weren’t here. I need you, Maria.”

"No one needs me. I don't need me, he didn't need me, you sure as shit don't need me."

“I’ll always need you. Even if it feels like no one does, I swear to every god ever that I am always going to need you.”

She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t say anything, not when John orders pizza after a while. He tries to get her to eat, but she won’t have it. He ends up only being able to choke down two pieces. There’s a knot in his stomach that makes it hard to swallow. He wonders if that’s why Maria won’t eat. She doesn’t take a single bite of food. Eventually, John pushes the pizza box away and keeps her close against him. It doesn’t take long for her to break down crying again, only this time there are no words. Just those sounds that break John’s heart, and he thinks it’d be worse if she tried to speak. He knows what goes through her head during nights like this, and he can’t bear to have those words out in the open.

That’s how the rest of the night goes. Maria cries and screams and John holds her. She’s too distracted to notice when his voice as he tries to comfort her draws tight and tears drip into her hair. Maria is broken glass in John’s arms, beautiful and fractured with sharp edges that dig into the bits of his heart that aren’t already torn. Every wail cuts too deep. It goes on for hours. She doesn’t fall asleep until John is openly sobbing and holding her in a grip that should be too tight for comfort. 

Maria looks like a mess, but John doesn’t care. He stands up and carries her to her room. He lays her down, pulls the ratty comforter over her. Then he decides he can’t leave her alone like this. It’s not safe. John has spent plenty of nights curled around Maria in her bed because he can’t bear the thought of what might happen if he’s not there. What’s one more night?

As John climbs into bed next to her, he can’t help but hear her voice from earlier. _Stupid. Worthless. Whore. Shouldn’t even be here._ They terrify him. He can’t lose Maria. He just can’t. John has lost so many people, from his mother to his father and siblings to Alexander. They’re gone from him whether life or death took them. He’s endured this much loss, but Maria is the last straw.

He finally drops off into a fitful sleep an hour or so later. It’s filled with dazed visions of dead women and a loop of _stupidworthlesswhoreshouldn’tevenbehere stupidworthlesswhoreshouldn’tevenbehere stupidworthlesswhoreshouldn’tevenbehere._

When Maria gets out of bed around two a.m., John just rolls over and keeps sleeping.

He doesn’t even know that rolling over will become his biggest regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance.
> 
> Also, I think I'm gonna give up on the schedule and just post chapters as I write because this chapter has been done for four days and it's been hell waiting to post.
> 
> Chapter title is from "The Last Night" by Skillet.


	3. it took two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are moments that the words don't reach, there is suffering too terrible to name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for this chapter: suicide, blood

John blinks awake slowly. His alarm is going off, but it sounds far away. Where is he, then? He sits up. The covers pool around his waist and the room feels colder than ever. It takes a minute for it to register that he’s in Maria’s room. This is her too-soft mattress and worn comforter. There’s a Nicki Minaj poster on the wall and a picture of him and Maria on the dresser. Yes, it’s her room. But where’s Maria?

It’s a moment before John can struggle to his feet. He’s unsteady from having just woken up. Most mornings, he sits in bed for a few minutes to adjust to being awake. But he can’t wait now, he has to move. Panic has begun lacing through his veins. Something is wrong, something is really wrong. John is scared and he doesn’t know where Maria is and the apartment is graveyard quiet.

The apartment has never been this quiet. There is a suffocating silence that covers his home like a blanket. Even John’s footsteps hardly make a sound as he carefully checks through each room. He goes so slowly, almost worried that moving too quickly will make him find something he doesn't want to find. Maria’s room is empty. His room is empty. The living room, the hall closet, the kitchen-- empty. There’s only the bathroom left to check. The quiet is more oppressive now. John’s breathing is the only one he can hear. He realizes that he hasn't heard any other breathing since he woke up. At what time last night did she stop breathing?

He doesn’t want to open this door. He really, really doesn’t want to open this door. Whatever’s behind it will change his life forever. He can feel the weight of whatever’s in there from here. Maybe if he leaves the door shut, nothing has to change. Maria will still be here if he just doesn’t open the door.

John’s hand goes to the doorknob. It turns and he wishes he could hear the noise. But it’s still quiet and it’s the absence of sound that stings so profoundly right now. It’s the silence that hurts the most. Briefly, he thinks back to the day he found out about Alexander’s affair. He remembers how quiet the apartment was before he exploded. John has learned to stop trusting silence.

His eyes squeeze shut as he walks into the room. If they open, it’s real. If they open, whatever there is to see is real life.

John’s eyes open. 

It’s worse than anything he could’ve imagined.

The first thing he notices is the blood. It’s so bright, so aggressively crimson. It drips down the off-white sides of the bathtub. It's death burning bright like roses. He’s been meaning to clean that thing, he thinks absentmindedly. No matter how much he scrubs it, though, he knows he'll never unsee this red. Seeing that tub covered in lost life is not being processed right now. The source of the blood is beyond comprehension.

Maria is in the bathtub. No, that’s not right. Maria’s still-clothed body is in the bathtub, soaking in water long gone tepid. The real part of Maria, maybe her soul or something John can’t think of, it’s somewhere. Hopefully somewhere nice. Maybe it’s warm there. She never did like the cold. He hopes that she died in warm water.

Those brown eyes that held far less happiness in life than John would’ve liked are glassy. The kindness that colored her when she looked at him and the gold flecks that shone bright in her eyes are gone. Her eyes are no longer her eyes. They don't look at him.  They look at the other side. Her lips are closed, the ends quirked up. Like she wanted to laugh. Like there was something to smile about in her last moments. He wish he knew what it was.

John can hardly bear to look at her arms. There are two long, deep vertical lines marring her skin. They are ugly. They are hateful. It looks like she attacked herself with a knife, or rather the razor gripped loosely in one of her limp hands. She wanted to die, wanted to make sure she died. She wanted it to hurt, a raw and gruesome hurt that John can't even fathom. Maria always liked looking her best, but those gashes are painful and permanent. At least she’s too dead to scar now.

The bathwater she sits in is stained red. It’s seeped into her tank top, only it’s not hers. Those are all his clothes on her lifeless body, stained with her blood. He will never be able to wear them again, not with her end soaked into them. Maria died hurting and bleeding. John dimly remembers something about it taking hours to die from blood loss. Did she cry? In those hours that she lay there, bleeding her life away, what did she think of? What did she say? Did she think of him, James, Alexander? He would give anything to know.

It’s only now that John realizes he’s fallen to his knees. His body has gone limp as he just stares at her. He just stares. Takes in the view of his dead best friend. Remembers how yesterday was their last good day. Remembers how it was also their last bad day. Wonders over and over how a million pieces of a heart becomes a million more.

Eventually, John gets up. He walks slowly back to his bedroom, gazing blankly at the ground. Once he’s in his room, he grabs his phone and mechanically dials 911.

_ “911, what is your emergency?” _

“My best friend is dead.” His voice is numb like the rest of him.

_ “Are you sure your friend is dead? Have you checked for signs of life?” _

“She killed herself sometime last night. I just found the body. Please, just...come get her.” John doesn’t wait for the 911 operator to speak again. He rattles off his address and hangs up. 

The phone in his hand is cold. Cold and lifeless, chilled like death. Maria probably feels that way, too. He’s glad he didn’t touch her. The last dead person he felt was his mother. Dead people are skin that no longer feels and he wants to throw up just from thinking about it. Then he actually does throw up, leans over his trash can and empties himself.

His body wracked with sickness, John lets the phone fall from his hand. He falls with it and shatters on the ground. When police come, they find him curled up on his floor, staring at the wall. Someone tries to ask him questions, but he doesn’t answer. He only responds when he sees Maria’s body being taken away. Even then, he doesn’t move. It feels like he'll never move again, just like her.

He opens his mouth and he screams and he thinks that maybe Maria took him with her when she died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the shortest one so far. Sometimes, less words show more.
> 
> I might be getting a new editor soon, check back every so often to see if something's changed. Leave comments and kudos, they motivate me to write more and faster.
> 
> Chapter title is from "The Loss" by Hollywood Undead. Chapter summary is from "It's Quiet Uptown".


	4. i can't stand the way the world feels when i'm walking alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I miss my friends, the ones I would die for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for this chapter: mentions of abortion, dealing with loss

It’s been a week since Maria died and John still isn’t used to it.

How do you get used to the death of one of the only people you still love? John doesn’t know. He’s not even really sure it’s possible. Especially when it comes to Maria. She made him a better man, things made more sense when she was here. Life wasn't completely perfect, but it was at least something next to normal. It was something he could deal with. Maybe one day the twisting knife in his chest will dull to scars, but it won’t be anytime soon. Not while John is alone in this godforsaken apartment.

John doesn’t want to stay in this apartment. But he doesn’t have enough money to move right now. Maria left him everything she had. However, he’s not sure how legal a blood-stained note written in shaky handwriting is. And that’s not the only letter Maria wrote. There were three: the hasty will, an letter to John, and another letter John doesn’t want to think about right now.

The police have just given him the letters back today. He holds onto the letter he doesn’t want to think about, sets it on the coffee table under a lamp so he doesn’t have to look at it. The will is tossed onto the table, too; he knows what it says. She left everything she had to John. The letter addressed to him is clenched between trembling fingers, and it weighs a million pounds as he sinks down onto the couch  _ (don’t think about the last good day, don’t think about cuddling her on this couch) _ .

When John unfolds the paper, it’s like a punch to the gut to see Maria’s neat handwriting all over it. She was dying and still had more to say. Even with this letter, there were things left unsaid that he wishes he could've heard. The loss washes over him again like a wave. She didn’t have to die, he didn’t want her to die. She had more to say.

It’s a long letter, which almost makes him sad. Too many words prolong agony. He knows that for a fact.

 

_ John, _

_ You have to know one thing before I even start: I love you with all my heart and soul. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life. You’ve made the last five months of my life bearable. Not just that, you made me happy. Well, as happy as I ever was. I was so hurt and so fucked up and you had no obligation to me. You had no reason to let me into your world, especially after the mistakes I made and how they affected you. Even with everything I've done, you still took me in and loved me. I can't thank you enough for that. _

_ You’ve done so much for me. More than you had to, more than anyone expected you to do. I’m so sorry, but I have to ask you to do one last thing for me. _

_ I have a daughter, John.  _

_ Her name is Susan. She’s the most beautiful little girl in the world. Looks just like me, but more like an angel. She’s about three by now, and she lives with my mother. I wasn’t making the best choices when she was born. She came from James. He was just a one-night stand at the time. I still don't understand why, but he didn't leave when I told him I was pregnant. He stayed until she was four months old, then made me give her to my mother. Said he was tired of her crying and taking my attention. _

_ Mom didn’t want me to see Susan after that. She told me that I could come be her mother when I could really act like one. I’m glad she did. I’m glad Susie never had to see her father. _

_ I want you to take custody of her. My mom is old, and she can’t take care of a little kid for much longer. The last time I talked to her, she wanted me to take joint custody of Susan so she could have a mother and Mom could have a break. _

_ I can’t do that. I can’t. I love Susan and I love you, but I can’t keep living this way. I’m beyond fixing. I'm too empty and too broken. I can never be the mother Susan deserves. So I need you to take her. There’s no one else who can, and once you show this letter and the will to my mom, she’ll agree. Please, Jacky babe. Just this one last thing for me. You took care of me in my life, please take care of my daughter in my death. _

_ You’ll love her, and I know she’ll love you. Just like I do. _

_ Yours eternally, _

_ Maria  _

_ P.S.- One more secret before I go. I thought you should know this, since I figured no one would tell you. Especially not Alex. _

_ I had an abortion the month before Alex told everyone everything. I think that’s what made him write that godforsaken post. Considering what was going on at the time, well. I didn’t know who the father was. I wasn’t always using condoms with either of them. I had somewhat of an idea, but that’s something I’m taking to the grave, Jacky. _

_ You used to ask about that small tattoo on my stomach, the little yellow balloon floating away into the clouds. This is your answer. _

_ Don’t let this make you think badly of me. I never wanted to give up the baby. But no one gave me a choice. _

 

John sets the letter beside him on the couch. Wipes his eyes, remembers he’s all cried out. His tears are dried up by now. He spent so many hours curled in Maria’s sheets and sobbing until her pillows stopped smelling like her. The phrase “cried out” was always just an expression to him, but he understands it now. The feeling of needing to cry is still there, the tears are just gone. John will hunch over on himself, dry sobbing and screaming until he throws up. His pool of tears must be enormous by now.

But John is less in a crying mood and more terrified. Maria’s daughter. A little girl he’s never heard of before now, and Maria wants him to take care of her. On the back of the paper is written an email address with the word  _ Mom  _ scrawled above it. He stares at it, biting his lip until he tastes blood. He has to contact this woman. He has to because Maria wanted him to. John will do this one last thing for her, will hope that it’s enough to make up for the fact that he couldn’t save her. He’ll talk to Maria’s mother. Not right now, though. It’s too much. Soon. He’ll do it soon.

There’s so many secrets in this letter. So much that Maria was holding inside, so much she’d never let John in on. And the ones she did finally let him in on are devastating. She had a daughter. She had an abortion. The father is always going to remain a mystery, though. That’s something that John can’t stand. He knows that she knew who the father of her lost child was. Maria just knew things like that. The not knowing whether her abuser or the one great love of his life fathered her child…it will haunt him. He’s never going to forget that, never going to stop thinking about who it was and why she still kept it a secret when she revealed so much else.

It all makes him wonder what other secrets are buried with her. 

He also wonders whether Alexander knows that Maria is dead..

Why would he? Maria hasn’t ( _ hadn’t, she’s gone, stop talking present-tense)  _ talked to Alex in so long. Neither has John. So who would’ve told him? The more John thinks about it, the more he thinks that someone’s got to tell Alex. He’s got to tell Alex. He doesn’t want to. He was perfectly content  _ (perfectly content? more like trying to not see him in everything you do)  _ to never talk to Alexander ever again. It’s immature, he knows, it’s important to deal with your issues. But he is a grown-ass man and he has the right to ignore the empty spot in his chest.

John pulls his phone out of his pocket and stares at the screen for a moment. There’s a large crack running right through the middle of it. He’d hurled it against the wall in one of the drunken rages he’s indulged in during the past week. It’s just another reminder that she’s gone and he’ll never see her again. Another reminder that he’s falling apart without her. Another reminder that you can never count on a person’s ability to survive.

He unlocks the phone and brings up his contact screen. Pulls up the messages with the number he’s never been able to bring himself to delete.

 

_ To: Hamilton _

_ we need to talk. _

 

John waits maybe three minutes before Alexander responds. It makes him wonder how often Alex checks for messages from him.

 

_ From: Hamilton _

_ John! I never thought you’d speak to me again. Of course we can talk. _

 

That eagerness just picks at the last remaining seams of his soul.

 

_ To: Hamilton _

_ come over. _

_ From: Hamilton _

_ On my way. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha no I have no excuse for why this is so late other than I'm a piece of shit.
> 
> Unedited because again, I'm a piece of shit. I hope it was worth the wait, though.
> 
> Chapter title is from "Walking At Night Alone" by Armor For Sleep. Chapter summary is from "Starving for Friends" by Slaves.
> 
> Comments and kudos encourage me to be a better person and write more things.

**Author's Note:**

> It's the sequel I was talking about! Quick things to get out of the way: this whole story has been planned out, it's gonna be eight chapters, it's gonna break your heart. I'll be updating every Tuesday until it's over. If you have any questions or anything to say that you don't want to leave in a comment, you can send me a message on my tumblr: littlebumblebug. I'll always answer, just like I answer comments.
> 
> Chapter title is from "Last To Know" by Three Days Grace. Pay attention to the titles, trust me. It makes every chapter hurt even more.
> 
> Story title is from "Sarcasm" by Get Scared. It's the other half of the line that's the title of the first story in this series. "Don't mind us, we're just spilling our guts. If this is love, I don't wanna be loved."
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this and stay with the story! Leave kudos and comments, it makes my day and motivates me to make each chapter better than the last.


End file.
